Number One
by YulianaHenderson
Summary: "Coulson walked into her room without announcing anything, without asking for permission, and maybe she should have been angry, but she couldn't find the strength within her to tell him off. 'I'm leaving,' he said. 'I'm not surprised.' He nodded. 'I would like it if you came with me.'" Philinda, set after the S5 finale. Just them trying to make the most of it. Multi-chapter.
1. Chapter One

**A/N: So, this is me starting to put some of the work out here that I have been working on for the past two months. This piece was sparked after the Season Finale, obviously, and while my heart hurt thinking of what May's life would be like now, to watch the man she loves die, I also felt the need to make her happy a little. So the majority of this story will be bittersweet, but just that - sweet. In a way. (And considering I've finished the entire thing already, I know that it will have a happy ending.)**

 **There will actually only be Philinda in this story, with some chats with Daisy but those are too short to give her a place in the list of characters. Just May and Coulson, doing what they were always supposed to be doing.**

 **Also, just a quick note to all the Mentalistas who are following me and might be disappointed with me no longer writing anything Jisbon: I'm completely empty. I have no ideas left. I think after 180 fics I have officially run out of ideas. So I'm afraid it will just be Agents of SHIELD from this point on. Sorry!**

 **Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **'Number One'**_

 _ **Chapter One**_

She wasn't herself, that much was clear.

Ever since Fitz had died, she was continuously on edge. The team was falling apart, even though they were pretending they weren't, and these people were family to her, the closest she'd had after her parents. She couldn't bear the thought of never seeing them again.

Coulson walked into her room without announcing anything, without asking for permission, and maybe she should have been angry, but she couldn't find the strength within her to tell him off.

"I'm leaving," he said.

"I'm not surprised."

He paused, then nodded. "I would like it if you came with me."

"Where to?"

"Not the point." He stepped closer and put a hand on her arm. "I don't want to part from you just yet."

That was a nice thought, but she wasn't sure what that would mean for her.

"Melinda," he whispered, "I can't say the words just yet. I need a little more time."

"I'm not forcing you to say them."

"No, I know that. But you've said them. You deserve to hear it."

"So what would we do if we left together?" she asked him, changing the subject. Her feelings for him were clear but it didn't mean they were easy. And it wasn't about to get any easier, with his upcoming demise and all.

He seemed to accept the fact that she wanted to change the subject. He pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and showed it to her, without leaving time to let her read it. Now she wondered what was on it.

"I've made a bucket list. I've lived a full life but I've spent most of those years with SHIELD. There's so much I haven't done yet. And… I can't think of a better partner to do this with than you."

She already knew she would come with him, because joining him in this crazy plan of his was way better than having to say goodbye now. She pushed aside the thought that she would likely have to watch him die in this scenario, but it was still better than the alternative.

"I haven't really thought this through, I know. I won't have time for everything I want to do. But… I want to share it with you. You're the single most important person in my life."

His eyes told her of everything that could still be awaiting them, the future they could never have but also the past they did have. She could never have been his lover for longer than she had been his best friend, but she was still proud of what they had been so far, appreciated their friendship.

She had no illusions - going with him was as a friend, yes, but it was mostly as his love. The only question therefore was if she was ready for that.

She had to be. He didn't have much time. Whatever he had left, she wanted to be there. They deserved as much.

"Just let me pack a bag."

He smiled like she had never seen before, like rainbows and unicorns would fly out of his mouth if he would say something, and she realized she had made the right decision. There wasn't really a choice anyway.

She reached out and they hugged tightly, something they hadn't done in a while and she hoped they could do some more in this little scheme of his.

"Thank you," he whispered near her ear. She would never leave him.

~...~

She felt so safe and content here next to him, even though it was too hot for words and there were tears in her eyes waiting to come out.

Her own goodbye from the team had been bad enough. Mack and Yo-Yo wished her the best, Jemma had stayed tough like a right little soldier (she deserved a break, May thought, but that was way out of her control), and Daisy had just pleaded for her to stay. When May had told her she needed to be with Coulson, Daisy had nearly cried, but she understood. For her question of when she would come back, if she ever would, May had no answer. She didn't want to think about life after him, not when he was still standing right beside her, ready to be with her, spend some time with her. He did it under the pretense of ticking off his bucket list, but she had a feeling he only did it to be close to her.

She looked to him briefly and saw pain in his eyes, even though he was smiling. He was a pro at that, especially right now, but they both knew that tears wouldn't make it any easier.

She couldn't imagine what his goodbye had been like, knowing he wouldn't see them ever again. While she wanted to say that he had handpicked them to be a member of this team, that wasn't the truth because _she_ had, but he had trained most of them and guided them, and she knew he saw all of them as a vital part of their missions.

His hold on her hand tightened as the Zephyr flew over their heads, and then they were alone, and he had well and truly left their lives. He took in a deep breath and held it, before letting it go, a bit more shakily than he probably would have wanted.

"I'm gonna miss them," he admitted.

"And you should," she replied, knowing it sounded rough, but it was the truth and he would know that. "They are pretty amazing."

He nodded, taking some more time to compose himself, then looked at her.

"Thank you for coming. Again. I feel like I have to say it often, that's how grateful I am."

"You don't have to say it, though." She looked at him. "You're my best friend. I'll always support you."

He turned so he no longer had to look to the side to look at her, and she did the same. Their hands were still entwined and she looked at the view, amazed by how easy that had been, her hand slipping in his. She looked back up at him, and he dropped her hand, to cup her cheeks. She felt the overwhelming need to kiss him, and perhaps he felt the same way, or maybe he could read her mind, because he leaned down and kissed her, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, and she realized in that moment just how much she loved him, and how she would break when he died.

She shouldn't think of it, she should cherish the time they had together, but it just kept creeping up on her, like a tiny voice in the back of her head telling her from time to time that he was going to die. She wanted to turn it off. If only she knew how.

One of his hands left her face to wrap around her waist, while the other landed in her hair, and he seemed to lose patience, in what she didn't know, because he was pulling her closer and closer until she pulled away to breathe because he was simply pushing all of the air out of her lungs. She put her forehead against his and closed her eyes, their sunglasses massively in the way. She wished she could have had more time with him. She wished that they had done this thirty years ago, and she thought of everything that could have been if they had just thrown all caution in the wind back then - they could have been married, had a family, been happy together. But then she knew, even if she'd been with him like that for thirty years, his death would still leave her broken. He was everything to her, so Melinda May without Phil Coulson was just… impossible.

She opened her eyes and he was looking at her, as though he hadn't done anything else, ever, his eyes speaking of feelings and words he could never voice, and she put her hands on his biceps, willing him to say the words. _Say the words, Phil, and I'll do anything for you, I'll watch you die. Just say the words._

But it was difficult for both of them, not just him. She remembered when she had told him about her own feelings, and it had felt like ripping a piece of her soul out, laying it all out, vulnerable, easy to damage, and it had taken so much courage from her side that she knew she wouldn't say it that quickly again. Maybe if he said it, it would flow out of her, but there was only one way to find out.

Yet he wouldn't say it. She knew that. It would make _everything_ harder, even breathing, for both of them. And they deserved better than that. In any case, she knew how he felt, she could feel it in the way he held her in his arms, like she was so precious to him, and she was.

"Hmm." He brushed her hair out of her face and she smiled at the affectionate gesture. "Let's get you out of these clothes."

She startled and chuckled in shock. She wanted them to take things slowly, in a way, to perhaps make it more precious, but his hands told her he couldn't wait. "Are you serious?"

"Of course. We're on Tahiti and we're still dressed for Chicago."

"Right." For a moment, she wondered if his comment was only that, innocent, like he had been so many times in his wonderful life, but then he kissed her deeply and wrapped his arms around her tightly, and before she knew it he was lifting her into his arms and he was carrying her to their beach house, only putting her down when they were inches from the bed.

"This is number two on the list," he whispered.

"What's number one?"

He hesitated, before he decided to gently push her jacket off her shoulders.

"You'll see."

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, reveling in the feel of him against her, his lips brushing against hers and his hands roaming her body. She would make the best use of the time they were given, and if it would mean that she had to spend all day in bed with him, who was she to argue with that?

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading this first chapter! I will see what kind of schedule I can come up with for publishing the chapters, maybe I'll just post randomly when I feel like it. Anyway, let me know what you thought in a REVIEW, thank you!**


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: Thank you so much for the follows!**

 **Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Two**_

He awoke to the first sunlights seeping through the curtains, warming the small cabin, preparing him for a day full of intense but pleasant warmth. His head hurt slightly, and he was breathing deeply to get some air, but he felt… content. Satisfied. No, that wasn't it, it didn't do this feeling justice. He was happy. Truly happy. He hadn't felt like this, ever, and had never expected to feel like this. Even in his wildest dreams he knew that this was supposed to be out of his reach, way out of his league, but the small hand that was resting on his chest proved to him that this was real, and he almost burst into tears at the thought.

He had to leave her behind at some point. That was inescapable. This was a death he couldn't avoid, and couldn't be brought back from, but rather than letting it cloud his vision with sadness, he used that clarity to spend as much time with her as possible. He would give her some good memories, of him kissing her, making love, smiling at her beauty without having to hold anything in. She had been a little reluctant at first, he noticed that, but when he had gotten her into bed, she had let go of all her reservations and she hadn't been able to stop kissing him. He loved it. He loved her.

And yet still, he couldn't say the words. He had seen in her eyes how much the prospect of losing him hurt her, he couldn't make it worse by telling her he loved her. She would break. And with what little time he had left, he wanted her to be happy. He wanted to be the one to make her happy, and she was letting him, but she would never truly be happy because he was dying.

She started stirring in his arms, and he watched her wake up, scrunching her nose, rubbing her eyes, and she looked so adorable in that moment. She would kill him if he ever admitted that he felt like that, but it was the truth. When she looked at him, most of her sleep vanished, and she smiled and leaned up to kiss him. He would always give in to her kisses, and his heart was making somersaults, man he loved her, he was so in love with her.

He pushed closer and his hands roamed her naked body, pulling her close with one hand on her hip, and she sighed, breaking their kiss.

"How did you sleep?"

She chuckled, her hand on his chest going lower to trace his belly button. "Seriously? You want to talk now?"

He smiled. "What else do you have in mind, then?"

"Well, I kind of liked our activities from last night…"

She pushed him onto his back and took her place on top of him, her lips on his immediately, and he smiled and closed his eyes, in heaven, until his head was swimming in that all too familiar way, but he wouldn't give in, wanted to focus on her and not his upcoming death. She kept kissing him, but he had to pull away to get a breath, even if it broke his heart to part from her.

She looked at him, knowing that he wasn't breaking off their kiss because he didn't want to kiss her. And he knew she could see that he wasn't okay, but she didn't push it. Instead, she buried her head in the crook of his neck and held onto one of his hands.

"So, what do you want to do today?" she asked him.

"I just want to stay here, with you," he whispered. She smiled and nodded, kissing the skin in his neck.

"How did you sleep?" he asked again. She shook her head.

"Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying. Just because I'm dying, it shouldn't mean that you have to be uncomfortable."

"I'm far from uncomfortable, Phil."

He didn't respond to that. Uncomfortable was perhaps the wrong word to describe what she was possibly feeling. He wouldn't dwell on that.

"I, uh…" she started, "I… dreamed of Fitz, for a while. I, uh… I know he's out there in space, but I still watched him die. I think I broke a little."

He held onto her tighter, and he had to swallow multiple times in order to get rid of the lump forming in his throat. She had broken after Fitz's death… they all had. But he realized now, like he had so often before, how much she would break when he would die. He couldn't do that to her, he didn't want her to hurt, wanted her to be happy, smiling, like she had been all night when he would kiss her or grab her a little rougher for closer contact.

The urge came to run away from her as fast as humanly possible, to protect her from this meaningless death he would have to succumb to at one point, but at the same time he longed to be close to her.

"Melinda…"

"No, don't. I knew what I signed up for. I could have chosen not to come with you. I decided to come. I don't regret it in the slightest."

"But… I'm dying, Melinda. I can't have a future with you."

"You can, though. We're here."

"If I live for two more weeks, it would be a miracle. You deserve more than two weeks."

"It's more than I ever expected to have with you," she admitted quietly, her hand coming up to weave through his hair.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I never expected to be with you… like this. I was scared, you were… wise. I never thought we would give in to this."

And they had come damn close to that, had he not decided to part from the team and live the rest of his days on his own terms. His own terms were living with the woman he loved, the love of his life.

"You're still wise," she whispered, "even though you make some stupid ass decisions. But we're together because of the choice you made."

"I would have involved you in the thought process, but I don't have a lot of time anymore."

They were silent for a while, his hand brushing her hair, and she burrowed closer. He let out a satisfying sigh.

"So what's number one on your list?"

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. He couldn't tell her yet, not when she looked this happy.

"You'll find out."

"I want to know now."

"It needs to be a surprise."

"I can't stand surprises."

"Well, you can't have everything."

She groaned but still smiled, and when they were out of words, they kissed again, and this time he didn't run out of air. She smiled brightly when they reconnected, her hands stroking his back, his face, his neck, while her legs were wrapped tightly around his hips. He had never pegged her to be a cuddler, but perhaps the circumstances allowed for a little outside of the box thinking. And he had always expected her to be dominant, but she happily shared control between the sheets, one moment blowing his mind, the next, writhing beneath him in pleasure.

"Melinda," he whispered, his hands everywhere. She kissed the side of his face.

"I know," she replied, her tone soft and kind. For now, this was enough. But he would tell her eventually, he promised himself that. It might break her, but she deserves to hear it.

~...~

They walked by the beach hand in hand, after having changed into something a little more appropriate - he, a thin T-shirt and shorts, she, a long dress flowing all around her like waves of the very ocean they were walking next to. He couldn't stop himself when he looked at her, so casual, so… happy. She was wearing her smile with pride, even though they both knew their time was short.

They were silent, and it was comfortable, no words had to be spoken between them to know what they were feeling, to know how significant all of this was. He stopped her occasionally to kiss her or hold her close, and every time he did, her smile widened. He had almost told her he loved her at some point, but right now, he was dragging it out so much that it had become too significant, too meaningful, like he was raising the stakes himself and it had gotten out of his reach.

She hadn't said it either, but she didn't have to, she had already said it. It seemed like an eternity ago now, but he could still remember how scared he had been of her, not of her rage or frustration, but of the fact that it had become clear to him that he could lose her just like that. He wasn't sure what had sparked that thought, in no way had she given him the impression that she would leave, but something in her voice had started the debate in his head.

"Oh, look!" she started out of nowhere and pointed where her attention had been drawn to - it was a stand of some sort, and he was unsure of what they were selling or even doing there, until they came closer and he saw the pictures on the sides. He looked at Melinda and smiled.

"Might only get this one chance," she said.

"You know I was joking, right?"

"You really weren't. Come on, it'll be fun."

She pulled him with her as she started talking to the nice lady, but all he saw was just Melinda, in all her beauty. How was it possible that such a woman existed, so perfect, so beautiful, and that she would be with a man like him? How had the universe created her and managed to link her with him? It seemed almost unfair on her end, she was way out of his league, but she didn't seem to mind - quite the opposite, she loved being with him, loved _him_.

"They have a spot for us. Let's go." She already pulled on his hand but he didn't come with her. She turned and frowned and looked at him. "Are you okay?"

The words almost left his lips, and it was the closest he had been to telling her, but in the end he was just the same old coward. He nodded and feigned a smile. She could tell, he knew, but she decided to let it slide.

He had lied to her about parasailing being the only thing left on his bucket list. It hadn't even been on his bucket list to begin with, but he'd humored her when she had brought it up. It was a feeble attempt to hide what was actually on the list, which wasn't even close to parasailing. (And when she would find out what number one was, her heart would no doubt break. He couldn't do that to her, not when she was finally happy.)

He did enjoy it, though, if only to see her smile as they took in the view, and her hand reached out for his, holding on tightly but not out of fear - out of joy. It seemed out of character for her, but then he had known her like this ages ago, before Bahrain. He loved that he could share these sweet moments with her, any moment, really.

When they were safely on the ground with both feet, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her, and she startled at first, he knew she wasn't big on public displays of affection, and them holding hands had been pretty public already. (The occassional kisses he had landed during their walk to this spot right here had been brief, and he had made sure no one was looking just so she wouldn't have any reason to stop him.)

But she surprised him by wrapping her arms tightly around him to deepen the kiss, and he could feel all her perfect curves underneath her flimsy dress when his hands roamed her body. Eventually, she was the one who calmed them down to prevent them from making love right here on the beach. She put her forehead against his, and he saw from the corner of his eyes that she had to go on tiptoes in order to do that. He smiled. His tiny Melinda May. He had never known before meeting her that such a tiny woman could pack such a hefty punch.

"I take picture of pretty couple?" the woman from the parasailing stand asked, and Coulson had almost forgotten where they were. Melinda turned just her head to look at the woman and said something Coulson was no longer paying attention to. His hands tightened a little more around her as she spoke, and all the while he looked at her, taking in this beauty. She seemed a little frustrated, so he willed himself back to her conversation.

"Please," was the last thing he heard, and then the nice lady was taking a picture with Melinda's phone, while Melinda held onto him tightly. He realized in that moment that she was probably saving memories of him, not just in her mind but physical memories that she could look back at after he was gone, and he hurt so badly in that moment. He really didn't want to die, but it was the only way, the only certainty, and sure, everybody would die eventually, but his death was probably before the week was over. And he wished more than anything in the world that he could stay with her, that he could wake up every morning beside her, have her kiss him awake, but the universe was cruel like that. He had gotten his second chance when Fury had brought him back the first time around, and he should have taken that opportunity, should have expressed his feelings back then. But alas, he was a coward, and now he was wasting away in her strong arms, getting weaker and weaker as the minutes passed by, watching her prepare herself for a long life without him. Because despite everything, he really wished she could have a long and healthy life - maybe happy wasn't possible for her, not without him, and he was realizing that quickly, but at least she got to live out the rest of her days safe.

He kissed her deeply, if she wanted good memories on her phone, she could get them, and she sighed in his arms, practically melting. The woman aww'ed - she had no idea. When they parted, he looked into Melinda's eyes, just briefly, but just enough to see she was already falling apart.

"You get pretty babies," the woman said in broken English, smiling as she returned the phone to Melinda. Coulson nearly cringed, then his heart hurt. If only.

It did make him think, though: if the odds could have been in their favor, would, _could_ they have had children? The fact that that question would probably remain largely unanswered was enough to have a lump form in his throat.


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Three**_

At dinner, the kind waitress had seated them in a far away corner of the restaurant so they had some privacy. May wouldn't have minded to have take-away in their cabin, but apparently Phil wanted to 'woo' her, whatever that meant under the circumstances.

He had ditched his shoes as soon as they had sat down, and his bare feet were tickling hers underneath the table. She had rolled her eyes at his silliness at first, but she had discovered that she really liked it, liked the contact, the intimacy. When he would go up her calf underneath her dress, she got shivers down her spine, and she had to bite her lip not to make a sound. Her calf. It was just her calf, but when he stroked it with his feet, she had to fight herself not to jump him right there.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you children."

She startled at that sudden comment. Where had that come from? Why did he think that such a comment would even be okay?

But then she remembered the woman at the beach, and the things she had said without knowing what consequences they would have. She couldn't be blamed. But May's heart had nearly been torn out at that moment, with the knowledge that she would never have kids. Even if Phil survived, it would still be impossible. And even Andrew, who had been so good at basically everything, hadn't been able to give her motherhood. Perhaps it was all on her. Perhaps she should have jumped Phil as soon as he had been brought back from the dead the first time around, but it wouldn't have been the same, she had only just found out by then that she was in love with him.

She didn't know how to respond to him, so she just opened her heart and said whatever came out first.

"Thank you."

"I wish I could still give you a baby."

"Hmm."

"What are our chances of conceiving a baby here?"

"I don't want that, Phil."

"What?"

"Raising a baby all by myself just so I could have a baby."

He pressed his lips together and looked down at the table. "Sorry. I didn't think about that."

"If I have a baby, Phil, with you or anyone in general, I want to do it together."

Which meant she would never have a baby, because Andrew was dead, and Phil would soon be. But she had made peace with that a long time ago, when the first signs of menopause had presented itself and she had still been alone. Some women were destined to stay childless forever. Unfortunately, she belonged to that category now.

"I've made peace with it, you know. I think I always knew I wasn't supposed to be a mother."

His look told her he disagreed, and she knew he was right. She should have been a mother, but she wasn't granted that. Be it karma for Bahrain, or just her job at SHIELD, but no matter how hard she'd tried, she had never ended up pregnant. Of course, there was always IVF, but somehow that just didn't feel right to her.

"Well, at least there's the team," he offered, his facial expression pained, like he really, really wished that there was anything he could do. He probably did, he was sweet like that.

"Yeah."

He was right, though. She had never birthed any children but it didn't mean that she wasn't a mother. At least, a mother figure, especially to Daisy Johnson. She was the closest thing to a daughter May would ever have. And she knew the same thing applied to Phil, who had, much like May, devoted most of his life to SHIELD, putting everything to the background in favor of the agency.

In a weird way, May realized that Daisy was their daughter. They had argued about her, fought for her safety, and worried much more than was strictly necessary. It hurt May more than it should to realize that the young woman would lose a father again. Daisy deserved better than that.

They all deserved better than to lose Phil Coulson. She had no doubts that the team was probably looking for a way to save him, still, even if he had specifically asked them not to. They were stubborn. And quite right, too.

"I'll take care of her," May said quietly, looking into his eyes directly, and when she saw tears pooling in them, her heart constricted. "I promise."

He nodded and swallowed, as he reached over the table to hold her hand. They sat like that for a while, both on the brink of crying for a while, stupid Melinda May.

She didn't know what her life would be like after he was gone, and she didn't want to think about it, but she had to, because his death was coming closer and closer. She liked to believe she gave him some more time with her kisses, but that was fairytale thinking and she was above that. He did, however, show her how appreciated she was, how good she made him feel. That had to mean something, right?

He hadn't told her he loved her yet, but at this point, she hardly wanted him to. Because the closer they got, the more it would hurt when he died. And while she had wanted him to say it when they had just arrived on the island, she was now too close to him, it would hurt beyond belief. She knew now how he would pull her into his arms to kiss her senseless, knew how he felt while making love, how he held onto her tightly, almost roughly, just to be able to have some closer contact, and show her what their lovemaking was doing to him. She now knew how much of a romantic he could be, bringing her breakfast in bed with fresh strawberries, feeding them to her alternated with open-mouthed kisses. His eyes would have turned into little hearts if it was physically possible. What good would it do if he said those words out loud now?

He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. Instead, he lifted her hand and kissed the top of it, leaving it there against his delicious lips, long enough for her to get emotional and choke back a sob eventually.

It was so hard to let him go, especially because he was as close to her as she had always wanted him to be, in her heart, in her arms, in her bed. She was so in love with him but she had to let him go, probably before the end of the week.

She pulled her hand away from his lips to brush his cheeks, but he didn't put his hand down, instead covered hers fondly, closing his eyes.

I love you, Phil Coulson. Please don't leave me. _Please_.

"God," she murmured, swallowing her tears away but failing miserably. "You wrecked me."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize." She took in a deep breath but didn't take back her hand. It rested comfortably against his unshaven cheek, his hand covering it as though protecting it from god knows what.

"Do you want dessert?" she asked him, also mad about the change of subject, but of all places to have a breakdown, this restaurant was the last place she wanted to have it.

He shook his head. "I just want to go back to the cabin."

Once they were in the safety of the bedroom, he folded her into his arms and she let go of all the tears she had been holding in so far. He, too, she could feel the sobs that took over his chest rock against her head. She didn't think she had ever cried this much, and it was probably just the start, he wasn't even dead yet and she was crying her heart out.

"If I broke in half when Fitz died," she whispered when she had calmed down a little, "what will it be like when you die? I'll die. I'll die for sure."

She wasn't ready to die, because though it sounded dramatic, she knew that was exactly what was going to happen after he died. There was no Melinda May without Phillip J. Coulson, and it had taken her over three decades to realize that, three decades too late.

She could tell he was getting tired, so she just grabbed his hands and they climbed into bed, but not before losing most of their clothes. They held each other tightly, and his gentle hands all over her body brought out more tears, dammit Melinda May, don't be such a crybaby, but she knew that every second with him could be the last one now, and all she wanted to do was just wrap him in her arms and never ever let go. Tell death to piss off and leave them alone. If only she could do that. She would certainly win in a fistfight.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he replied, brushing her hair out of her face and smiling, just faintly. "But I won't let it cloud our time together."

She pushed closer and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Do you want to make love?" she asked him. He chuckled, but it was slightly empty, he was tired, exhausted probably.

"What kind of question is that?"

"I'm serious, Phil. I don't want to start something we can't finish."

His smile left his lips and he looked away in shame. That was the crux of the entire situation they were in right now. He would leave her hanging and it would hurt like hell and she would probably die.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Stop apologising."

"I can't help it, Melinda. I still firmly believe that you deserve so much better than me. You're putting all of this time and effort into me, but you'll get nothing back."

"That's not true. You're here now."

"But where am I in the long run, Melinda? For all we know, I might not wake up tomorrow morning."

"Please don't talk like that."

"But we have to. We have to address that."

"Why? Why can't we just leave it as the elephant in the room? Phil, I think… no, I _know_ … I can't live without you. So even if I manage not to do anything rash after you die, I'll just be an empty shell. Phil, if it weren't for you, I would probably have killed myself after Bahrain. You were there to protect me, look after me, when no one else did. When you die… there will be no one left. I'll just… die."

He had started crying somewhere in her monologue, and she sighed and gave in, too, until once again they were just blubbering messes in each other's arms. His arm was so tight around her waist and she drew comfort from that, that despite what happened, he was still holding her so very close, she could have no doubt what she meant to him. But now, her tears were laced with a new kind of fear, she had been scared of him dying before, but now she was scared of him falling asleep. What if he didn't wake up? What if this was the last she saw of him, alive?

"Oh god, Phil," she cried, "I'm so scared."

He nodded, and she knew he felt the same way, knew he was scared beyond belief of dying, but mostly of leaving her behind. She reached up and kissed him and all words died on their lips, as they moved them together, sweetly, as though trying desperately to forget the state they were in. She wasn't surprised when they ended up making love, and it didn't escape her that he looked even more tired than before, but he wasn't about to stop this, so neither was she.

She fell asleep almost immediately afterwards, properly sated, but just before she slipped away, she could swear she heard him whisper something to her. She wasn't sure if she had heard it correctly, she probably hadn't.

It had sounded suspiciously like…

 _I love you._

~...~

He was so angry at himself. She had admitted how scared she was, which was incredibly difficult for her and he knew that, and he had done nothing to relieve her of those fears, even though he knew the only way to stop her feeling like that was if he stopped dying. And that was something he couldn't do, didn't know how, even if he wished more than anything in the world that he could grow old with her.

But the angriest he was at his words right before she had fallen asleep. He had told her the most important words in a post-sex bliss, when his heart had felt for just a moment that everything was alright. Dammit, she deserved dinner by candlelight, rose petals, a serenade, and he had held out for so long that he had almost thought he could hold it in until his death.

But when she had kissed him as they were coming down from their climax, her hands in his hair and her smile brighter than the sun, his heart was overflowing. As he watched her fall asleep, still wrapped up in bliss, he had found her so incredibly beautiful, like he had so often before, and just in that moment, he hadn't been able to hold back the words. For a moment, everything had felt right, like it should be. And he was starting to envision a future with her, much like this, having incredible sex, waking up next to her the morning after, kissing her perfect lips and knowing that before he'd met her, he hadn't been a man at all, but she had turned him into that - he was still a coward, but a man nonetheless. Didn't the two often go hand in hand?

He wanted her not to have heard it, but he knew she heard everything. If she had heard it, he also knew she wouldn't address it. Her lifetime of heartbreak had taught her to let some things slide, but these words had progressed so much by now, he couldn't leave them hanging between them.

So when she slowly woke up, his arms tight around her like usual, he gave her a soft kiss, before putting his forehead against hers and looking into her gorgeous eyes. He would let fate take control, and even though he was scared of the painful, scary road that was ahead of him, he knew he could do anything with her by his side.

"Good morning," she whispered with a sweet, sleepy smile gracing her lips.

"I love you."

He saw the shock wash over her face, her eyes widening, one of her hands holding onto his forearm. She blinked a few times to let the words sink in.

"What?"

"I love you. I love you so much. I love you so much, I can hardly breathe past it."

Her hold on his hand tightened. She closed her eyes, but just before she did, he could see the pain inside them. Yes, it hurt. Yes, he would die. But she deserved to hear it, and now that the high word was out, he couldn't stop.

"Phil…"

"I love having you in my life. I love to see you smile. I can feel it when your heart sings because it makes my heart sing, too. I can sit next to you and I don't say anything and I feel at peace, and I feel safe with you, knowing that not only will you protect me, you won't hurt me. And I lose all sense of time in your arms, nothing exists but you. You are so important to me. I love you."

She stared at him, all her feelings swimming in her eyes, he could see it all. She had once hidden away her emotions, perhaps too embarrassed, or guilty, he wasn't sure. She wouldn't even tell you if the tea you had made for her was good enough, so he knew when she did show her emotions, it meant a lot, especially to her.

Since coming to Tahiti, she had been nothing but emotion, and it sounded negative, but it really wasn't. She loved him, a lot, and she wasn't afraid to show it anymore.

Now was not an exception. He knew she wanted to hear the words, and at the same time didn't want to hear them, and it was only fair. He had said the words now, plus a whole lot of other words that accompanied this feeling inside his chest, and she was opening to him like a beautiful flower, opening her petals to show her core, the warm, kind, sweet heart she hid away, even from him.

She pulled him close and buried her face in his neck, both her hands holding his head close to hers. He felt her cry, not necessarily in the tears that were pooling against his skin, but in the little tremors that were quickly taking over her body, and he realized she had only just woken up, he could have cut her some slack, waited a little, but this couldn't wait anymore. She had waited for thirty years for him to say these words. She had waited long enough.

"Don't get all sappy on me," he whispered, teasing just a little, his hands on the curve of her back, pulling her close, as he kissed the skin of her neck, no doubt leaving some distinctive hickeys.

She pulled away to look him in the eye. "I never thought I would hear those words from you."

His heart constricted out of guilt. He would no longer hold back in anything related to her. She was already hurting so much. It was unfair to make her suffering even worse.

"Well, you'll hear them from now on." He kissed her lips, briefly, just to make a point. "I love you."

She swallowed and smiled. She hadn't really said it before herself, that one time he wouldn't even have been surprised if she had said it in a fit of rage, not even controlling most of it. Here in the present, she traced his lips with her fingertips, and he loved it when she did that, it felt so intimate and familiar.

"I love you, too," she whispered, and the biggest smile spread on her lips in happiness, that she had finally said it, that she didn't have to hold back anymore. The ball had been in his court for days and while he had played several other balls around it (kissing her, making love), he had left this specific ball alone. But now, his heart was filled with love, because Melinda May was smiling in his arms after he had just told her he loved her. Life couldn't get better than that.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips, and she actually chuckled, tears spilling down her cheeks. He brushed them away.

"I love you," she replied, so heartfelt, he could hear it in everything, he was so in love with her and he would leave her behind in this cruel, messed up world. The universe hadn't been fair to them, especially not to her, and their current predicament was just another example of that. He was afraid what the universe would throw at her after his death, and he was afraid she wouldn't be strong enough to face it. But he had hope, that once he was out of the picture, she would have more luck.

When they made love not long after, it was even more meaningful than it already had been, with those important words still fresh on their lips. And he couldn't stop saying them, loved to see how every time he told her, she would light up and kiss him, or hug him close, or crash over the edge into endless pleasure, like she felt his words all over her body, not just her head, or her heart.


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Four**_

Day three on the island had commenced in the best way she could have expected - he had told her he loved her. No funny games, this was real. He had spilled his heart out to her, and she realized that that was probably the reason why he had held out for so long. He couldn't just say 'I love you'. It was more than that for him, and that knowledge made her love him even more.

He had worn himself out all night worrying about her. He had admitted that he was scared of not waking up anymore, and therefore had decided that the best option was to just not go to sleep. Of course, that was the worst possible decision, because after their lovemaking following their confessions of love, he had crashed beside her and basically passed out. The color had left his skin a little and she was now worrying about him even more than she already was - she spent every hour that he was asleep by his side, not even leaving the room to have a shower or get something to drink. She didn't want him to be alone, and quite frankly, she didn't want to be alone, either. And she was alone. It was a sad, depressing preview of her life after his death.

She reached for her phone when she got especially sad, but she didn't have any missed calls or anything. She shouldn't be surprised. She had asked the gang to let them be, so that is what you would get.

She flicked through her pictures absent-mindedly, she hadn't really taken any pictures aside from right after their parasailing adventure, but she was surprised to see some pictures she hadn't seen before. They were of him, laying beside her while she was asleep, and it should have been creepy, but his smile on the picture just warmed her heart, and he was so gentle with her in that picture, she could see that. He was laying beside her, his face impossibly close to hers, but he was looking at the camera, as if he was posing.

He was giving her more memories. More ways to hold onto him after he was gone. His kisses, his words of love, but also physical things, like these pictures. Her heart broke, but at the same time she warmed from the inside out. He was so sweet. Why was the universe cruel like that?

The last picture sent tears to her eyes again - it was of him, looking at her, his smile somewhat faded but his adoration still clear in his face. He loved her so much, and it filled her with happiness to know that she was here with him, like it should have been from the start.

After a while, her fingers automatically dialed Daisy's number, but as the phone connected, she paused. She couldn't just call Daisy whenever things got hard. Daisy had her own life.

"May?"

Oh thank god. Hearing Daisy's voice felt so good, knowing she was okay and still breathing. May looked at Phil, who was still asleep, but he still looked pale and she was afraid that it would only get worse from here.

"Are you okay?"

"I, uh… I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Oh, uh… okay." Daisy sounded confused and May couldn't really blame her. May had never been like this, scared, in love, protective almost. There was a selfish part in May that had called Daisy simply for her own benefit, but she knew most of it was because she was worried about her. And she had promised Phil to look after Daisy. Why wait until he was gone?

"How are you doing?" May asked Daisy, as she sat down at the end of the bed, a hand lightly on his shin.

"I could be better, I guess. I miss you guys. We all do."

And quite right so. They had been at the top of the team for so long, they had built it from scratch, and it wouldn't be right if that hadn't left a lasting impact on all members involved.

"How's Coulson?"

"Still breathing." She didn't want to go into full detail to Daisy, not wanting to worry the young woman even more. Daisy would definitely turn the plane around and personally get him to a hospital. May didn't disagree with that tactic, but she knew that he was beyond help now, no hospital could save him.

"Will you come back, May?"

It didn't really shock her because Daisy had asked her that too when they had parted on the Zephyr, but it did surprise her a little that that was still on the woman's mind, after these days spent apart, that she wondered what May would do when Phil died.

"I don't know."

"Please come back. May. I'm not one to beg easily, but _please_ come back. And I should have said this back on the Zephyr, although I doubt it would have changed anything… but... I… I don't know where I would be without you. So please take it into consideration. I know… no, I can imagine… no. I know it will be hard when he dies, but we can be strong, together."

Damn. Who had taught Daisy the ability to give powerful speeches overnight? Daisy was like May, horrible in expressing her feelings but instead wasting away while pushing it all down, deny it air, refusing to address it. In that aspect, Daisy could definitely be May's daughter.

"You know I'll die if I have to lose you, too. And we don't have to stay with SHIELD. We can travel the world, I know you always wanted to do that. But I want us to be together. Please."

"I _am_ taking it into consideration, Daisy. But I'm not finished here."

"No, I know that. And I hope you'll never finish. But if you do… please don't just run away. I… I need you, May."

May lowered her head and felt the tears come up yet again. She knew how hard it was for Daisy to talk about her feelings, she was a mini version of herself, so to hear these words from Daisy's lips hurt her and at the same time pulled them closer together.

May remembered her and Phil's talk at the restaurant the other night. They had admitted that the team was their family, and especially Daisy, that she was practically their daughter. Well. This young woman admitted to needing May, and while they might never say the words, she could be her mother. Daisy needed a mother.

"I'll, uh, I'll call you soon."

"Can I talk to Coulson?"

"He's asleep."

"Oh. Okay. Say hi for me."

"I will. And Daisy?"

"Yes?"

"Please be careful out there. I know you're still looking for a way to save him. Don't lose yourself."

"You would do the same."

"I know. But just be careful."

She sat beside him after she had ended the call, resting against the headboard and looking at him, sleeping. Sometimes, he looked so peaceful she had to check his pulse just to make sure he hadn't left just like that.

He woke up eventually and she put her hand on his cheek to let him know she was there. He had a significantly harder time waking up this time around, and he almost fell back asleep, but he looked up at her and just sighed in what seemed to her as bliss, and she slid down and into his arms easily, not doing anything else, just looking at him.

"Hey," he croaked, his voice incredibly quiet, and she really hoped he would get some strength back. She wanted him to shut her up with a kiss and push her onto her back and make love with her. The way he looked now, she doubted he could even kiss her.

"Hey."

He proved her wrong by putting his thumb and index finger on her chin and pulling her towards him, for a kiss that filled her with love, happiness, everything she ever wished for them and more. When they parted, his arms lay loosely around her, their foreheads against each other.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him. He just shook his head. In lieu of words that had already been said and done, he just lay with her there, perhaps both knowing that this was the beginning of the end. The past few days had been nothing compared to this.

In a way, it almost felt like he was letting go. Like he thought that because he had said he loved her, he could die in peace. It broke her heart.

"Don't let go," she whispered. "We have so much more to live for."

"Like?"

"I still haven't found out what's number one on your bucket list."

He smiled and she pulled his hands a little closer. That's it, my dear Phil. Please keep this up.

"Might as well just say it."

"Uh-uh. I want you to surprise me."

He chuckled and nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers, and she melted in his arms. She wanted to draw out Phil, not the shell of the man he was becoming to protect her feelings, she wanted him to smile at her and hold her tight and never let go.

"Anyway, I think you'll like number three more."

"Oh?"

"But that's also a surprise."

"I hate you."

He smiled brighter and kissed her lips briefly. "I love you, too."

She brushed his hair and rested her hands in the back of his neck.

"Anything else we can work on?"

"Number four."

She raised an eyebrow and he smiled again.

"Sex on the beach," he explained.

"The drink?"

"Sure, Melinda May. The drink."

She chuckled and he kissed her then, deeply, regaining some strength as he pulled her close and she sighed against his lips.

"You know, beach sex is actually quite overrated," she whispered. "You get sand everywhere. _Everywhere._ And it takes too much planning and thinking. It's not spontaneous."

"I did some research."

"Of course you did." Always the cool and collected spy, who came prepared with stupid gadgets and a SHIELD handbook. She had often laughed at him for that nerd inside him, but she secretly loved it.

They spent the day in bed, making out, watching some mindless TV while they lay in each other's arms, ordering the cabin equivalent of room service, and when it started getting dark outside, he got up and started collecting some things.

She sat up and looked at him.

"Phil?"

"Number four."

"You're too weak to stand."

"I don't have to stand. And I'm standing now."

"Phil… I know you want to make the most of our time together, but please don't push yourself."

He shook his head and came to stand beside the bed, pulling her up and into his arms while she was still kneeling on the bed. He grabbed her arms and put them around his neck.

"I saved all my energy for this, Melinda. I'll be fine, I'm a grown man."

"I'm not doubting that, Phil. I just… don't want you to get worse because you're pushing this crazy scheme of yours."

"We'll see how it goes. I don't want to spend all day in bed. Even though I love to be in your arms."

He grabbed her long beach dress from the floor, she hadn't really worn a lot of clothing for a while, and handed it to her.

"I love that dress on you."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely."

"Because I won't stop once we started."

"Oh, I know."

She had proven that fact many times before. They walked out of their cabin hand in hand.

~...~

When they took a bath afterwards in the big jacuzzi, she chuckled at his disappointed expression.

"I told you."

"But at least we've tried it and that's the main thing."

She smiled and put a kiss on his naked chest.

"And before you offer it, sex in the ocean isn't pleasant either. At least, not for the woman."

He pouted and she chuckled, as his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"How do you know all this?"

"I went to Maui with Andrew. He was very… adventurous." When his hand on her body traveled south after a while, she kissed him to try and slow him down. "We could go back to bed."

"Hmm."

"Phil?"

He looked at her with a small smile on his lips.

"What's number one?"

His smile dropped and so did her heart. Okay. So it was probably not necessarily something happy.

"It's, uh… sort of a surprise."

"I know. But what if you die before you are able to show it to me?"

"That's the thing," he whispered. "My death plays a big part in it."

"Oh."

Now she really wondered what it was, but she was also scared of finding out what it was. His death played a big part in it, apparently, so she would likely only find out as he was dying. And she wasn't ready for his death.

He sobered up and got up, the water cascading from his naked body, and she got up without really thinking about it, her heart willing her to follow him, wherever he went. He dried himself off quickly, and she moved to dry herself off, but he wrapped her up in the large towel and pushed her to the bed without even really drying her off. She sat down on the bed, confused what he was doing, especially when he left the room.

"Phil?"

He returned after a few moments with his boxers on, a view she hadn't seen in a while, at least when they were still in their cabin, so she had a feeling that this was about to get serious. She had thought that they were going to make love, but this was probably much bigger.

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, quiet for a while. It hadn't escaped her that he was holding a little black box in his hands, velvet by the looks of it. It made her heart beat faster than it probably should.

"I, uh… wanted to make this more romantic, but you're right. I don't know how much time I have left, and… I want to have done this. For your sake."

He handed her the box, putting it in both her hands and enveloping her hands with his. His eyes told her of all the love that was in his system, the life she could have had with him if he had just kept living. Was it really too late to get married and start a family?

"Phil…"

"Will you marry me?"

Her heart basically burst out of her chest, with shock, love, everything all at once. He was asking her to marry him. Him. Phillip J. Coulson. How could she remain neutral after a question like that? Who would blame her that she started crying? Certainly not him.

"Oh…" was the only thing she could say for a long time. She stared at the box, not even able to open it, knowing something precious was inside it, and she wasn't ready for that.

He opened the box when she didn't, to reveal a beautiful silver ring, on top a massive diamond, on the band surrounding it little stones. The entire thing shimmered so much, and her hand started shaking, it was too beautiful and she couldn't take it. She wouldn't take it.

"It was my mother's. She loved you. She would want you to have it. She would have been happy to see we finally got together."

"I can't take it, Phil. I can't."

"You can, and you will."

"Phil…"

"Please be my wife. We can get married here."

"But you'll die soon. I'll be a widow again."

"And I'm sorry about that. I truly am. But I want to be married to you. Even if it's just a day. It will be worth it, to me."

They sat quietly for a while. She wanted to marry him. She did. But he would die and she would lose him and she felt like it would hurt three times as much if he was her husband. Three times, she almost made herself laugh. A billion times more.

She thought back to Andrew. Her heart had broken in two when he had died. She couldn't do that again. She couldn't lose her husband again.

She took out the ring and slipped it on her finger. He grabbed the box, threw it away and wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing her deeply, even when they fell backwards onto the mattress, their lips didn't part, and neither did their arms.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Yes," she replied. He giggled and frowned in confusion.

"Yes, what?"

"I'll marry you."

He let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god. I love you."

"I love you, too."

So perhaps she was destined to always be a widow. Perhaps it was a curse to be in love with her, to marry her. She wouldn't do this to someone else ever again. She would never love someone like she loves Phillip J. Coulson.


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Five**_

He loved to look at her at any given time of day. He loved to watch her when she was asleep, so sweet and harmless, her hands in loose fists against her chest, whenever they weren't on his chest. He loved to look at her when she was preparing breakfast, she was a horrible cook but maybe his abilities had finally started to rub off on her. He loved watching her when she showered, however creepy it was, she loved to have him there, too - that was, if he didn't join her.

And he loved to watch her when they were making love. She had a history of blank faces but she was the complete opposite then, every single emotion written like words on her pretty face, every movement of their hips making her moan and sigh. She was so incredibly beautiful, he had never ever met someone as perfect as her.

Now, as she was brushing her hair, sitting on the chair in front of the vanity, he realized that she was probably at her most beautiful so far, her skin slightly tan from their time on the island (he realized they really must have been stuck inside a building for the past year or so, if she was already developing a tan from just three days on a beach), a satisfied smile on her lips that just wouldn't leave. She was wearing that long beach dress he loved so much, but she didn't do it just to humor him, he knew that.

But perhaps she was so beautiful to him in that moment because he knew she would be his wife within an hour or so. He had never had that prospect before, with anyone really, but to have it with her? It blew his mind. She was the love of his life. And she would soon be his wife.

How was it possible for him to be the luckiest man alive, but also the most unfortunate? He would get to marry her, but he would leave her behind a widow, again, like she couldn't hold onto a spouse, like she was cursed. It was so incredibly unfair to her.

She smiled at him as their eyes crossed via the mirror. He stepped up to her and stood behind her, his arms on her shoulders, and she grabbed his hands and pulled them down, until he was kneeling behind her and he put his lips against the skin in her neck for a soft kiss. His arms ended up somewhere around her waist.

"Do you really want to do this?" he asked her. She closed her eyes and he could see the pain in her face. But she'd be damned if she didn't marry him. He knew that.

"Yes. I do."

"Save that for later," he teased, and she opened her eyes only to roll them at him. She held onto his hands a little tighter and god dammit, he wanted to be with her for eternity, see her beautiful face every single day, make her happy, buy a house and grow old together. Life was so unfair for them both.

"I love you, Phil," she whispered. "After Andrew died, I told myself I would never get married again. You are the only exception to that rule."

"I want you to be happy after I die."

She shook her head and shrugged. "I just can't. I can never lose someone like this again."

He didn't know what to say to that. Nothing he said would help her anyway, he would only make this worse.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Let's do this before I regret it."

He wouldn't let her say that twice and got up, and before they left the cabin he kissed her. "Here's to the rest of our lives."

Which in his case was awfully short.

~...~

Normally, the process of getting officially married in Tahiti took at least two months, and Phil had almost given in to the fact that they wouldn't get to do this, but then May stood up and explained their situation. The woman behind the desk of the City Hall immediately saddened, and took it up with her supervisor. They both came out and promised they would be married before the end of the day. May didn't know how many laws they were breaking right now, but she didn't even really care. They had broken so many laws in their days, just a few more wouldn't do anyone harm.

"This is number three," he whispered, right before the small ceremony started. The clerks had served as witnesses, personally invested in their story now. "Getting married to you."

She smiled brightly and she saw a flash beside her, and realized that someone was probably taking pictures. She was glad. This was a part of their days together that she wanted to hold on to.

She hadn't even prepared vows, even though they both knew that this was too impromptu to have prepared for. She still felt the need to say something, though, but why she didn't know.

"You know I'll always love you, no matter what. And even though I still hate you for not fighting, I understand it. And I love that we at least have these days to be together, so we haven't wasted all of our time. And I'll look back at these days with pain and sadness, but also… love. Because I love you. I really do. And… to be standing here, saying these improvised words… I never thought we would get here. And I'm so proud of us… despite everything. I'm proud of _you_. And I will use every cell in my body to protect you."

He cried after her vows, unable to say his own for fear of breaking down completely. It was alright. She knew how he felt. In any case, she didn't want him to make empty promises, he couldn't keep them anyway. It wasn't his fault, not really.

She didn't want to hear him say that he would always love her, that he would care for her and protect her, because while that was true _now_ , she had no idea what it would be like in the long run. She was already hurting so much. So, so much. His eyes told her he knew exactly what she was feeling, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The justice announced something to their witnesses, but everything faded away as she focused on his face, his eyes which told her of millions of stories left untold, the wrinkles in his face telling of thousands of stories passed, his lower lip trembling but the corners lifting up slightly anyway.

He was her husband. He was officially her husband. She had found herself fantasizing about him carrying that specific title for far too long now, had wondered if he would ever get the honor to be someone's husband (and had secretly hoped he could be hers), but she had never expected that they would ever get to this. Her husband. She was Phil Coulson's wife. She liked the sound of that.

"You may kiss the bride."

And he did.

~...~

He had basically crashed onto the bed when they returned, such an eventful day, they had gotten married and they had bawled their eyes out so she wasn't surprised that he was exhausted.

She sat against the headboard, his head against her outer thigh, and she held onto the official document like it was her lifeline.

It explained that they were married. That he was her husband, that she was his wife, that they were Mr. and Mrs. That she was Mrs. Melinda Coulson (or perhaps May-Coulson, but she had time to think about that).

She couldn't believe her luck. She got to marry him, through all their downfalls and rough patches, she was now his wife. She had wanted to shout it from the rooftops, proclaim how much she loved him, how happy she was to be with him, but when he had collapsed onto their bed, she was thrown right back into their reality, and she had taken her role of caretaker without much hesitation.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through the pictures she had so far. Not nearly enough, but this was a summary of her life, honestly.

It was a coincidence but she received a text message right then, attached a single picture. The sender was Daisy, the only one capable of disobeying their wishes of being left alone, but May wasn't even angry. She loved to hear from her, even if it had only been a couple of days since they had last seen each other.

The picture showed the team around a table in the Zephyr, focused but also as happy as they could be. Jemma was in the center of them all, looking directly into the camera, as though she was the only one who had seen that the picture was being taken.

The content of the text was simple and short - Might be getting close. There was no explanation but May knew it was probably about Fitz. It filled May with hope and love, the prospect of Jemma and the rest of the team being reunited soon with Leo Fitz making her smile. At least there were people in their family who were happy.

She felt Phil wake up, and she focused on him, looking for any signs that he wasn't okay. His nap seemed to have done him well, and he pulled himself up to lean his head on her shoulder. Both his arms wrapped around her waist.

"What's making you smile?" he asked, his voice sleepy but she could still make it out. She turned the phone to him and he blinked to focus on the screen, but smiled, too, followed by a frown.

"Close to what?"

"Fitz."

"Hmm."

He pushed the phone down and leaned up to capture her lips in a sweet kiss, and one of his hands rested in the back of her neck, scrunching up her hair a little and she once again melted against him. She should focus on their team for a while, he had received enough of her attention, but he was making it difficult for her to focus on anything else. He pulled away after a while, and the little noise their lips made when they parted made her toes curl.

"How are you?" he asked her. She frowned.

"I should be asking you that same question."

He shook his head. "I just had the most amazing dream. Of us on the beach, and I was no longer dying, and you looked so happy and relieved. I almost didn't want to wake up."

She was glad he had, but that dream sounded like a better alternative right about now. When she pulled him closer by his upper arm, she was reminded of his illness, the dark, ugly lines prominent on his skin, and she almost pulled back as if burned. This was their reality now, she shouldn't turn a blind eye to it. She had a feeling it would only get worse if she ignored it.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "I was just looking at our marriage certificate. I can't believe we're married now."

He smiled and kissed the skin in her neck.

"I can't believe I fell asleep right after we got married. I'm such an asshole."

She shook her head. "You were tired. I would prefer you sleep than that you wear yourself out."

"But what about our wedding night?"

"It's turning into a wedding afternoon now."

He chuckled and they looked at each other for a while, and his hand reached up to trace the few lines in her face. She wouldn't be surprised if she had gained a couple more in the past few days, considering how much she had worried.

"I would be content with just laying like this. Isn't a wedding night supposed to be about just being together, happily in love?"

"Think we succeeded in that last part, anyway." He paused briefly. "I'm in love with you. You know that, right?"

She nodded. "I'm in love with you, too."

"Then at least we did something right." He kissed her and she just gave in to whatever the universe had in store for them. "My beautiful wife."

She eyed him suspiciously. She had not seriously fought valiantly all her life to be considered only beautiful. But she knew he did it with love.

"My tough, fierce, strong wife?"

She smiled and they cuddled even closer.

"Keep 'em coming," she replied, bringing a smile to his lips.

"Smart, funny, kind…" He kept going but she wasn't really paying attention anymore. She just watched as his face basically turned into jelly, his eyes sparkling with a thousand stars, even a small blush forming on his cheeks, but why she didn't know.

So perhaps something good had been given to them by the universe. Everything else sucked, but at least they were married.


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **'Chapter Six'**_

They managed to make love once following their wedding, but she did most of the work and he felt increasingly horrible about the fact that he couldn't just grab her and make love with her the way she deserved.

His head was swimming the entire night, shifting in and out of consciousness, and he was well aware of it all. At some point in the night, she had grabbed the medical supplies that Jemma had given them before they had parted, and Melinda covered his nose and mouth with the oxygen mask. Her face faded sometimes, his eyes unable to focus all the time, but she was there with him, always making sure he wasn't alone.

He loved her so much. And now, her life was reduced to being a nurse, he was sure this isn't what she had envisioned married life to be like with him. She deserved so much better.

He wondered if this was it, if this was what dying felt like. Breathing hurt, he couldn't move, and it was getting significantly harder to stay awake. He was as scared as she was that he wouldn't wake up anymore.

"You can't stay awake all night, Phil," she whispered, brushing his forehead with her soft fingers, and for a moment that was all he felt, his entire being focusing on her fingers against his skin. They had known each other for most of their lives, she was his best friend, his support, his partner, his rock, his… wife. She was his best friend and his wife, and if he had to choose anyone to die next to, she would be on that list in tenfold.

She was on his list, only she didn't know it yet.

"I love you, Phil," she whispered, kissing his cheek. "I'm staying with you."

He wanted to say it, too, wanted to let her know how much he loved her, how grateful he was that she was there, but he could barely take a breath now. He would have cried out of frustration if he had the strength for it.

But at one point, he decided that if this was in fact the end, he wanted her to know how much she was worth to him, how loved she was. What was he going to do with air if he couldn't even tell the woman he loved how much he loved her?

He pulled back the oxygen mask and she protested, trying to push it back in place. He shook his head.

"I love you, Melinda."

He knew it sounded like a goodbye, and she was well aware of that.

"Please don't ever forget that."

She shook her head and successfully pushed the mask back.

"I won't. I promise. But please hold on. Don't let go."

And he was fighting, he really was, because he wanted to see her some more, wake up next to her tomorrow morning, have her kiss him awake. She still deserved the entire world to lay at her feet, she had fought until she had nearly broken to protect the people she loved and this was her thanks? For him to be torn away from her like this?

No. It was his turn to fight now, for her, not even himself. He would fight so she got to have even five more minutes with him.

Her hands wrapped around him tightly when she also noticed that there was nothing she could do anymore. His hand reached up to rest on the top of her head, so they had some semblance of normalcy.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you."

And he opened his heart so that she could hear that he felt the same way, how much he loved her was impossible to describe with words, nothing would do the real thing justice. But she knew. He knew she knew. She had to know, because he couldn't say it anymore, wanted to save just a little bit of energy to watch her.

He firmly believed that these might be his final moments, and the thought scared him, but she was there, with him.

His life was complete with her by his side. And now, she would hopefully finally understand what was number one on his list.

 _#1: Die in the arms of Melinda May. I've never loved anyone as deeply as her._

~...~

She stayed strong when he was still conscious, but when he slipped away, she immediately panicked, especially when he was hardly breathing and his pulse was weak.

She got on the phone with Jemma immediately, who picked up all broken inside, but when she heard May's voice and state of mind, forgot her own grief and focused.

"Is he breathing?"

"Just barely. I used the mask."

"Good. Good. We're already on the way, just stay calm."

"There's nothing you can do."

"We'll see about that."

Jemma hung up and May just stared in front of her, at Phil who was quickly slipping away, letting go while she had specifically told him not to do that. She held onto his hand.

"You can't die, Phil Coulson. You're not allowed to be dead. I still haven't found out what's number one."

She managed to make him slip into her arms, and she was briefly reminded of Robin, the little girl who died a grown woman in her arms, who May never got the chance to be a mother to, didn't have to be a mother to. She had hardly known Robin, even though she had definitely felt a connection there, and watching the woman die in her arms had broken her heart. She couldn't let Phil die like that - he had a great part of her heart in his hands, when he would die, she would surely cease to exist. She had thought it was dramatic at first, but she knew now that it was true - there was no Melinda Qiaolian May without Phillip J. Coulson. When he died, she would die. It was as simple as that, really. And she had tried to fight it as best as she could, but she had spent most of her life fighting and this was one fight she could never win.

He came to at some points, just a brief fluttering of his eyelids, his dazed blue eyes looking up at her, before he would slip away again with a contented smile on his lips. No. She would fight, even if it was a lost battle. A lost battle didn't mean a lost war. She only hoped the team had found something to delay the inevitable.

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard the loud engines of the Quinjet and within seconds after landing, the team stormed in all business, not even slightly caught off guard to find Melinda May crying by Coulson's side, holding onto his hand, nor the matching wedding bands on their fingers. Jemma pushed everybody to the side and rushed to Coulson's side, seeing what she could do medically speaking. He was beyond saving, but it did May well to see all of them still wanting to save him.

For a fleeting moment, she realized that every single member of their team looked like a goddamn superhero, arriving on scene to save the damsell-in-distress, which in this scenario was Phil Coulson.

"Where's Daisy?"

"She's on a mission," Mack explained. "She'll be here soon."

May nodded and watched Jemma work her magic. It really didn't matter anymore. His heart was still beating, but he was gone. The only thing Jemma could do now was prolong his comatose state, and May regretted having called the team. This wasn't what Phil wanted, but at the same time it was. He wanted to have a future with her, but he also wanted nature to take its course.

Well. This wasn't nature, Phil Coulson was supposed to live, and the people who loved him and cared about him would not allow to let him die like this.

Then they were faced with a familiar sight, of him hooked up to tubes and it broke May's heart. She had seen him way better than this since they had come to Tahiti, he had smiled and laughed and kissed her and had altogether looked like he was the happiest he had ever been.

It just wasn't fair, not to him nor her. They deserved better than this - _she_ deserved better than this.

Daisy stormed inside quite unexpectedly, pushing something into Jemma's hand and giving her a single nod. Jemma's eyes widened and she started working once again. Daisy took a few moments to look at Phil, then she pulled May up and hugged her tightly. It shocked May, Daisy hadn't been like this often, and it had only been three days or so, but then May had missed her, too, and through her worry for Phil, she had also worried about Daisy.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Daisy breathed.

"What did you do?"

"I hope we saved Coulson."

"What did you do?" May asked again. Daisy shook her head and they parted. The young woman turned around and focused on Coulson, the rest of the team leaving the cabin until only Jemma, Daisy and her were left.

"Daisy-"

"I didn't kill anyone. I found a way to save him, it will take too long to explain, we should focus on the saving part."

May looked at the two women, focused completely on Phil, and for the first time since learning that he was dying, she felt hope flutter in her chest, a dangerous feeling in her life. Nothing ever kept up, nothing ever allowed for her to keep holding onto hope, so she pushed the feeling away, to shield herself from more pain.

Jemma and Daisy kept hope, May could tell. Who was she to stop them? Maybe for them, it would hurt less, but while she thought it, she knew it didn't work like that. This would hurt them, too. Maybe she should protect them, but they were grown adults.

She reached for Phil's hand and didn't let go again, not even when the two women left the cabin instructing her what to do when his situation went downhill, but she wasn't really paying attention anymore.

What did it matter? He was dying, and she would never see him smile again. She was too tired anyway to do anything, even breathing, now that she knew he was well and truly gone, what was the point?

She fell asleep curled up against him. She was his wife. She would always be there, by his side.

~...~

His condition remained stagnant for a day or two, and all that time, the team stayed close, mainly to check up on her. She didn't really have the will to do anything anymore, not when he wasn't there to get her through it.

She dreamed of the first time they had properly met, a fond memory in hindsight. At the time, she had wondered how anyone could be so awkward and make it so far in life. They were in separate academies but some seminars were joint, which was always just a way to ask for trouble. She had seen him before but had never really paid attention to him much.

He had gotten into the Communications Academy so there must be something in him that could communicate properly, but he would get himself in the most peculiar of situations, and after a few weeks, she had seen how some of her peers were bullying him. She had hovered around the scene, not wanting to fuel it but also not wanting someone to be hurt if she could help it.

When they started pushing him, she had stepped in, and she had made quite a reputation for herself, so just her presence was enough to make the bullies step away. She had picked up his bag, gave it back to him and had smiled at him.

"Don't be stupid again."

"Can't help it."

They had stuck together for a while after, and she walked him to his next class, talking about insignificant things, and right before they parted, he had smiled at her in that adorkable way that only Academy Phil could, before he had fully matured, before he had lost too many friends and partners to count.

"I'm Phil Coulson, by the way."

"Melinda May."

"I know."

He had turned around and left just like that, and she was left behind in shock and amused.

She woke up with a faint smile on her lips, her heart warmed a little with the memory of their beginning, how he was awkward but he had grown, not always in positive ways, but everything that he was now was a result of what they had been through together as friends and partners. It had shaped him into the wonderful man she knew today.

It only served to add to her grief. She had so many beautiful moments with him, she had been through so much with him and they had nearly crossed the finish line to a happily ever after together in one piece. But alas, he hadn't quite made it.

She felt something touch her hand, and she slowly woke up fully to see what it was - it turned out to be his hand, lightly tracing hers, and she shot up, wide awake.

"Phil?"

His eyes were still closed, and she thought she had just imagined it, so she looked down at his hand, finding it was still resting against hers, not a position it had been in when she had fallen asleep.

Was it really just her imagination that was pulling cruel pranks on her? Had she not suffered enough?

That's when she saw his arm, which had been covered in dark black lines, scaring her a little - it was clear now, just the way it had always been before, the arm that had saved countless of people's lives, and hers included.

She didn't know what she was seeing. She looked at his face again, searching for signs of life, of progression.

"Phil?" she tried again. He remained still for a minute or two. Then, he opened his eyes, protesting the lights, closing his eyes again. "Phil."

"I'm here," he croaked, and her heart jumped out of her chest, she nearly cried in joy, she was not hoping yet, but then he opened his eyes fully and he focused on her, his clear blue eyes beaming at her, holding more life than she had seen in the past few days, and she did cry out now, putting both hands on his face. "Hey."

"How dare you say that after you almost died on me?"

He frowned. "Did I not die?"

When she remained silent, his hand came up to brush her cheek.

"I was so certain I was in heaven." He was silent, too, but then spoke again. "I felt you against me and I just knew… after I had slipped away like that… that I was dead. Because… it was too perfect for words."

He was still regaining his focus but he knew the best thing to do, which was - to kiss her. She melted against him but their kisses were quickly reduced to open-mouthed smooches, he was panting and she realized that he was out of breath. She wanted to stop him, but he wouldn't stop kissing her, and she realized in that moment that she had said her goodbyes to him, but he was still here, and while his hold on her was weak, it was becoming increasingly clear to her that he was still alive.

They parted, mainly because she didn't want him to choke, and she looked at him, her hands brushing his cheeks, his neck, lowering to his chest and resting there.

"What did you give me?" he asked her, honestly curious and a little confused. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his neck.

"It wasn't me," she whispered. "It was Daisy."

"Huh."

They didn't talk anymore after that, not even when Jemma walked in to check up on him and almost dropped everything she was holding when she saw he was awake. She started running some tests and Daisy arrived, too, perhaps realizing something must be up when Jemma didn't return after a while.

"Did it work?" Daisy asked.

"I think? The dark lines are gone except for his chest, his breathing and heartbeat are stable, at least compared to before. His vitals are all fine."

"Thank god," Daisy breathed, and May looked up, from the comfortable warmth of Phil's arms seeing her heroes talk to each other.

That's what they were. Her heroes. They had saved Phil, despite his wishes, because that was what they did, what they were about, what SHIELD was about. Saving people, even when they didn't want to be saved, even when the odds were stacked against them.

It had all led to Phil right here, turning his face towards May and nuzzling her nose with his.

So was this it? Was this her happy ending with the man she loved? She wouldn't believe it even if Jemma would confirm it. May's life had never been lucky so she was fully preparing for this to end prematurely. In any case, however, she would get to spend some more moments with him, and that was all that mattered.

Daisy sat with them a little later on the opposite side of where May was, and she looked at them with a faint smile on her face.

"Thank you," Phil whispered. "Thanks for disobeying me."

Daisy chuckled and rolled her eyes. She grabbed his hand and then her eyes widened slightly. May realized she had probably noticed his wedding ring.

"You, uh… okay. You got married."

"Yes, we did."

"Good." Daisy looked at them and smiled, it was sincere and happy and it looked good on her. "You guys gave me countless of chances. You gave me a life, a purpose, a family. This is me repaying you for all that. You get to live now."

It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given her. Well, aside from the universe gifting her Phil Coulson.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Seven**_

Hours turned into a day which turned into a week, a week and he was still alive. He was certain he had died in her arms there, but he had gotten some color back into his face, his breathing had improved and most of his strength had returned.

He spent all of his time with Melinda, he couldn't be helped. If only, his near death experience had made him love her even more, and he thanked the universe and everything that could possibly be thanked for this opportunity to be beside her.

Jemma had warned them that there could always be a chance that it might soon be over anyway, but he reminded her that that was the fun of life, in a way. You had to enjoy what you got, as though it was your last day, and the past weeks had reminded him of that even more. At least he would get to spend some more time with Melinda, and that was honestly all that mattered.

Melinda was making them tea in the kitchen and he had followed her, standing in the door opening for a few minutes, admiring her fully, before standing behind her and wrapping his arms tightly around her. She just sighed and leaned back, her hands covering his on her flat belly.

"Hey," she whispered, and when he looked down at her he saw her smile, satisfied, happy.

"What do you think of Paris?"

"What?"

"For our honeymoon."

She turned in his arms and he took that chance to brush her hair out of her face.

"What makes you think I need a honeymoon?"

"It's not about needing. You _deserve_ one."

"We're in Tahiti, Phil."

"Yes. But we got married here. It doesn't count."

She rolled her eyes and he wrapped his arms around her tightly and lifted her onto the kitchen counter. She spread her legs and he stepped in between them. All the while, she smiled at him, and he loved that he could lift her like this again, that he was finally strong enough to love her properly, show her how much he loved her.

"I would be content to just go home," she whispered, her hands entwining in the back of his neck, and she pulled him close to link their lips briefly.

"Where's home?"

"Hmm… wherever you are."

Her words filled his soul with hearts and flowers and rainbows, she would kill him for being so cheesy but he couldn't believe his luck, that he got to spend this time with her, that he got a third chance.

A third chance. There was a price to be paid, he knew that, and perhaps his final death would be painful and gruesome and lonely, like he deserved, but hopefully it was twenty, thirty years away from now.

"I can't wait to spend forever with you. I can't wait to buy a home together. I love you."

When he kissed her, she smiled against his lips.

"I know."

He pulled back and she was smiling so brightly he gained twenty more years to live. He would live to a 160 if she kept going like that.

"Thanks, Han Solo."

She chuckled and he felt the urge to kiss her and make love to her, more than ever before, because he knew he could enjoy it properly now, didn't have to hold back, didn't have to slow down so he could catch his breath. She seemed to be totally fine with this turn of events. If only, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer just like that.

"Let's just go somewhere and see where we end up," she whispered, close to his lips. "I just want to be with you, that's it. I still have to get used to the fact that I don't have to worry about you anymore. Not like that."

"Then let's do it. The guys are still here with the Quinjet. I'm sure they can drop us off somewhere."

"You really hate to fly coach, don't you?"

"Uh, yes. Duh. Being stuck between a crying infant and an elderly lady who can't stop gloating about her grandchildren? I'd much prefer the jump seats in the Quinjet, thank you very much."

She chuckled and they kissed some more, until someone entered the room and they hardly pulled away, just looked at who it was.

Daisy.

"Hey, we're leaving now. You need a ride?"

Phil looked at Melinda, who was just smiling at him, encouraging him without words to just say yes and be a little adventurous. He could do anything with her by his side, his best friend and wife. They might even settle down in the end. He knew that thought scared her a little, his Melinda was afraid of too much permanence, but he would show her how beautiful it could be, would be, just the two of them.

"Please. Just let us pack our stuff."

There was nothing to pack, they had hardly taken anything with them, and he almost thought of leaving everything behind, start all over again, but when he saw her beach dress draped over the chair in the bedroom, he threw that plan into the wind. She… _they_ deserved a life, together, in peace, and in a way, this simple flower dress represented everything he wanted for them. No more fear of being hurt, no more fighting for their lives. No more SHIELD. He deserved to be without SHIELD.

She looked at him as his fingers lightly touched the fabric, and when he looked at her, her eyes were questioning him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. That's the thing. It's kind of scary. My life has never been like this."

She snaked her arms around him after she looked at him worryingly for a few moments, and he pulled her close.

"I honestly thought I would die… when I thought about the future, I didn't even dare to look past this island… and look at us now. We are making plans for the rest of our lives, and it feels so… great. This is perfect. The last time I got close to a happy end… she died. And Audrey… And then with you, _I_ almost died."

She held onto him tightly and made him look at her.

"Hey. Nobody is dying, okay? Not anytime soon. So you can get used to us being together, because I'm not letting you go."

Thank god.

He couldn't wait to be with her for as long as they were allowed.

~...~

"Well, this place is yours now. Good luck."

He smiled at the happy couple and handed them the keys. As soon as he was out of sight, Melinda May pulled Phillip Coulson in for a toe-curling kiss, deep enough to make him wrap his arms around her and push her flush against him.

"Good luck?" she asked with a smile on her face.

"It _is_ kind of a mess."

He grabbed her hand and opened it, placing the keys in her palm and closing her hand again. Then, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other underneath her knees and he lifted her, bride-style, though they were long past that.

After she unlocked the door, he carried her over the threshold, the one thing he hadn't been able to do on their wedding day and the one thing he kept trying to recreate, as though that was necessary, as though she had hated that specific day in their lives.

He put her down in the hallway but he didn't let her go. Instead, he pulled her in for another kiss, and she briefly wondered how long they had gone without kissing each other once they had gotten together. It was probably about ten minutes. It made her smile.

"We gotta learn the language," he said all of a sudden.

"The language?"

"Yeah. The slang? The mojo? What do the kids say these days?"

She chuckled and rolled her eyes, putting her hands in the back of his neck.

"They speak English here, Phil. We will already stand out, so what's the point?"

He shrugged at that and let her go, but she wasn't going anywhere. They held hands while they explored the house, _their_ house, quite possibly her dream house. Not too big, so it was cozy, but there was still enough space for their loved ones to come visit them. The windows were big, putting their surroundings in perfect view. She loved looking at the hillsides, and the nature was probably the first thing she had fallen in love with when he had shown the house for the first time. It was secluded and peaceful and serene, exactly what she had always needed. She had lived in a city all her life. Now was the time to retire to the countryside.

"It's perfect."

"It sure is." He squeezed her hand, causing her to look at him. "And the house is, too."

"Stop it, Phil. You're being too corny." She said it with a smile, however, because she knew no matter how many times she would deny it, she secretly loved this side of him.

"Why was it specifically this house that you wanted to buy?"

"Because I thought you might like it. And… there is parking space for our family."

When she frowned, he pointed outside to the vast green fields. It took her a while to realize what he was talking about.

"The Quinjet." She smiled and realized once again what an amazing person he was, to factor in all sides of a coin, to look at what she wanted, the coziness, the solitude, the serenity; but also their family, because that is what they were above everything else. They wanted to be able to visit them often, stay over if possible, especially Daisy.

"Hey. You better get into your painting gear. We have to start."

He saluted her, with a big, doofy smile on his lips, and she pushed him away from her, knowing that that specific smile could get him anything he wanted.

~...~

Since her childhood, she had always thought that she would be stuck in the same lifestyle for eternity, because her mother was a bad example. May had done fine until Bahrain, and had then preferred any other job over that one and had settled for office work, which had pushed her into a depression even faster than normal. She had no idea how her mother was still in that job.

Phil Coulson had gotten her out of that office with sweet talk and she had followed like a bee to honey, because the prospect of working with him again sounded incredibly tempting. Even if she was the one who had assembled their team, he had actively tried to get her as involved as possible. Five years down the line, and now she was retired, at 54.

Well, mostly retired. As opposed to Phil, who refused to take a single step into any base SHIELD related, she still offered some advice from time to time, taught some self-defense classes because she loved to train the younger generation.

Now, she was sitting in the deep window sill with multiple cushions surrounding her, reading some stupid book that somehow had piqued her attention and she was about halfway. Her husband was outside doing God knows what, probably tending the garden, or just staring out at the fields. He liked to do that, for some reason.

He had given up spy life entirely, and while everybody else was surprised, she wasn't. They had been in the business for over three decades, and while she'd had no complaints, he had often discussed his dreams of a quiet, civilian life, even back in his twenties, when they had rolled fresh out of the Academy. After all, he had never had any ambitions of being a spy, had always planned to be a history teacher.

He was damn good at being a spy, and that was what had kept him going, but he wasn't made for it. When they had started settling into their home, he had gone job hunting and had landed himself the position of history teacher at a local high school. He had visibly lighted up, and that was all she lived for - for him to be happy, to feel comfortable in his skin. Retirement from SHIELD did him well.

It should have surprised her that when they had started looking for houses, one of his first options was Ireland. She had no idea what she could expect from the country but he had been so excited about the new adventure, and she had always encouraged him to remain as adventurous as he always had been, so they had started this adventure. The house had really been a mess, but their love had turned it into their perfect home.

The front door opened and he entered, smiling at her and automatically diverting towards her to kiss her lips.

"I think I heard something outside."

"That's very generic. What did you hear?"

Right at that moment, she heard the telltale sounds of jet engines drawing closer, and she got up, throwing the book away, screw that stupid book. He smiled at her and she grabbed his hand, and together they walked out the front door and watched as the smaller Quinjet landed right in their front yard.

"The kids are home," he whispered, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her to his side. It briefly reminded her of their goodbye to the team back in Tahiti, a little over a year ago now. His knowing smile showed her that he was thinking the same thing.

"Phil?"

"Hmm?"

"What was number one on your list?"

They had worked down his list as much as possible, although one thing they could never tick off - have a child. It was okay, they had their family, but it would never be the same thing.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Are you sure you want to keep it from me?"

He chuckled and tightened his hold on her.

"Alright. It was to die in your arms. Not just any arms, your arms. Because I love you, so much. I haven't loved you any less, only more. I haven't loved anyone as deeply as I love you. And I know I didn't technically die, but I think we can both agree that I came pretty close. It was frightening, but your arms were there. And it was… perfect, in a weird kind of way. I knew you were there. That was all I needed to know."

Of all the answers he could have given, there was no way she could have expected this one, and she stood frozen to the ground for a moment, but then her eyes landed on his and she saw the love he had spoken the words with, and it was alright.

"Well…"

"I know. It was different for you. That's why I focused on literally any other point on that list. Number one… it was for me."

That was important. Phil had spent most of his life pleasing others and had put himself to the back more than once. Even his death in New York was selfless - it had served to bring the Avengers together, even if it meant he was dead. She had been furious at them once, that it had taken his death for them to get serious. He should never sacrifice himself like that again. It hadn't been worth it, anyway - not even a Border Collie could keep those stupid sheep together. She was secretly glad for laughing in Fury's face when he had asked her to help out with the Avengers - she would probably have mortally injured all of them for their stupidity. But they were Phil's friends, she knew. And privately, as civilians, they weren't half bad.

In front of them, the Quinjet was leveling with the terrain, it was obvious that Davis was behind the wheel because he was quite possibly the only one on the team who could park here. Well, him and May. But she hadn't flown in ages.

"I actually quite like the sentiment of that. But I'm glad that you didn't die."

"Me too. Now, I get to kiss you for all eternity."

For good measure, their lips met briefly and she let out a sigh. Just at that moment, she heard the hangar door open and a couple sets of feet climb down from the plane. She rushed out of his arms to wrap Daisy Johnson in hers, who was now legally their daughter (she had just gotten the official papers in the mail the day before), while over the woman's shoulder, she saw Fitzsimmons exiting the Quinjet with their baby girl in Fitz's arms.

For once, nobody had died. It was a pleasant change to their normally tragic existence.


	8. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **Epilogue**_

She got very sick about three years after they had started living in Ireland. She had gotten sick before, and he would always be beside her, his duty as her husband, but he also wanted to make sure that she was alright. He cared about her, loved her.

But this was different. This didn't appear to be a simple flu, although with her, everything seemed to be. She always downplayed whenever she was feeling bad, that was one trait no amount of years being married to him could change. He understood. She had been alone for a long time, too long for his liking, and he knew that it was a survival thing.

But this was _really_ different. Where she usually pretended to be fine, she barely had enough strength to breathe, and she ended up just laying in their bed weakly, breaking his heart into an infinite amount of pieces.

She reached for him when he climbed into the bed beside her, and he collected her into his arms, a wet cloth on her forehead trying to lower her fever. She hadn't said anything intelligible for two days or so, but now he could clearly hear her, as though everything else faded around him and just she existed - and that was nothing but the truth. She was the only reason for his breathing, for existing.

"I love you," she breathed. She licked her lips in an attempt to wet them but to no avail.

"Hey. You'll be okay."

She paused and looked up at him, her beautiful face so incredibly pale, her eyes almost lifeless. He held onto her tighter - and suddenly realized exactly what she must have gone through on Tahiti nearly four years ago. The fear that every breath would be the last, that he would never see her smile again, that he would feel the life slip out of her right there in his arms.

"I'm sorry."

She would have questioned him verbally, but instead she just raised an eyebrow at him, questioning his meaning.

"I should have fought. It was unfair to put you through that. It was unnecessary."

She just sighed and put her head in the crook of his neck, no words spoken because she was too tired to do anything.

She was his hero. He could never have gone through something like this for as long as she had.

When she fell asleep a little later, still shaking because of her fever, he couldn't help but call Jemma, not even factoring in any possible time difference they might be subject to.

"She's breathing?"

"Yes?"

"And she's drinking?"

"Not a lot, but yes, she's drinking."

"Then it's just a matter of sleeping it off. There's not a lot else you can do."

No. He wouldn't accept this. There had to be something he could do. He couldn't just let her fight this alone, like she had fought everything for years on end. There had to be a way to help her.

"But-"

"Coulson," Jemma interrupted, her voice firm, and it reminded him of the tone she used to reprimand her daughter, Blair, "stop. The only thing you can do is be there. Don't try to fight the fever, it's helping against the virus. Make sure she drinks. That's it. Don't beat yourself up over it. You didn't get her sick, none of this is your fault. And you're there with her now, aren't you?"

"I should protect her."

"From what? The flu? Coulson, don't be ridiculous. She'll be sick for a while but she'll get over this, she's healthy and strong. And do you honestly think she would need protecting?"

He guessed not. Melinda stirred in her sleep, her brows scrunching together a little but then the moment passed, and she looked peaceful again, safe in their bed.

He had hurt her so much over the years. He had lied to her, kept things from her, willingly went against her wishes, but the worst thing he had done to her was not realising how important she was to him. How much he cared, how much she cared. He should have factored in her wants and needs, like any good person would do for someone they cared about.

No, it wasn't just 'caring about', and he knew that all too well. He had been in love with her from the moment they had met at the Academy, when some stupid words from his side had caused some bullies to push his stuff to the floor (like real adults), but then her presence had scared their socks off. He had known who she was - Melinda May, the single most promising field agent the Academy could ever put forward, hand-picked by Director Carter herself for her strength, smarts, wits, but Melinda had never let that 'fame' get to her head. She had little friends but the ones she did have were important to her, that much was visible, and she didn't just walk up to anybody for a chat. The fact that she had seen him being pushed around and had decided that she would stick up for him - it was indescribable. She had picked up his bag while he just stood frozen, and she had smiled at him, and perhaps it was already in that moment that he realized that he had a crush on her.

She had mocked him and he had retaliated, but there was something about her that was just very comfortable. She was way more mature than any of their peers, so she was calm and collected, didn't let herself get pulled into drama. She was just… incredible. Every boy's (and some of the girls, too, if he had to he honest) fantasy was to be kissed by Melinda May, have her push some sense into them. Coulson was no different, although he had always told himself that she would never pick the likes of him to be with. They had become friends, all the way through the Academy, and during their missions together after graduating he had admitted that she was his best friend, always having each other's backs and never leaving before they were certain that the other was safe. But still, even as his feelings for her grew and got more intense, almost impossible to breathe past, she remained just out of his reach. He had promised himself he would never let his feelings ruin their friendship. She would always be Melinda May, his best friend and partner, but never anything more than that.

If someone had told him back at the Academy that he would get to marry Melinda May someday, he would have laughed in their face. But here he was, here they were. Married for four years now and still happy together. He was still in love with her, after all these years, since the Academy. He hoped it would never fade. She still made him tongue-tied and still made his heart flutter and toes curl and feel light-headed. He loved it. He loved her.

"Just be there for her. That's all you can do."

It was what he was best at - stay by her side, through thick and thin. He would never leave her, ever again.

She awoke a couple of hours later, still shaking, and while her eyes opened, they didn't really focus on him. He put a hand to her forehead and found it was still unbelievably hot. He was fighting everything inside him not to pick her up and cool her down in the shower, but Jemma had told him specifically not to do that.

"Phil," she croaked, her teeth clattering by now, and he had never seen her this vulnerable, in all the years he had known her she had always radiated an infinite amount of strength, she was always on top of her game, always knew what she was doing. Even if she was struck hard by life, she remained powerful, and his near-death experience in Tahiti was just one of the many examples attesting that power. She had been so strong then, even if she bawled her eyes out. She had held him and protected him and now he was still alive because of it.

But now… her breath was ragged, her skin pale and sweaty, and her hands didn't have even a fourth of the strength she usually possessed. She lay in his arms, almost lifeless, and he felt the urge to protect her sweep through him, filling his heart with love and his arms with strength. It was just a flu, goddammit, she would pull through!

"I'm okay, Phil."

He almost laughed. Who was she trying to fool? He knew her better than anyone they knew, anyone on this planet, and they both knew it.

"You're not. You're sick. But I'm here, Melinda. I'm here, and I'm not leaving you. I promise."

"If this is what number one feels like," she whispered, and he was silent for a while, trying to first make out what she had said, and then ponder over the meaning. Number one? What was she talking about?

Then it hit him. Number one. His bucket list.

She wasn't seriously thinking about that now, was she? Because she sure as hell would not be allowed to let a mere flu be the end of her. The universe couldn't be this cruel. And she had to stop being so dramatic.

"You're not going anywhere, Melinda," he told her, knowing that it sounded suspiciously like an order. "You're staying right here."

"Hmm."

Her hair stuck to her face all over, so sweaty, and he brushed the strands back into place, reaching behind him to get another bath cloth to wipe her forehead. He was reminded of Blair, the little Fitzsimmons miracle, who was basically his and Melinda's grandchild and who slept at their place often if her parents were on an extended mission. He had not known a lot of kids in his days, but he was sure she was one of the sweetest, smartest, most witty little kids on the face of the earth. He was sure of that.

"Hey, you remember when Blair got so sick the first time she slept at our place? I was sure she was dying, I was ready to go to the hospital, but you could see it was just a fever, and you dealt with it like a pro."

"Hmm."

"Well, that's it. You're a pro. You'll get over this."

He only noticed then that she was already fast asleep, and her little mumbles had been nothing more than her reactions to her fever-induced dreams. He was by her side the entire night, not daring to close an eye, and when she woke up in the morning and looked significantly better, she showed him exactly how grateful she was that he had been with her.

Honestly? His life was meaningless without her in it.


End file.
